


Of Drugs, Guns, and Blonds

by walkingregret



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga), Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, I've no idea, M/M, Mafia AU, Mystery, Tsukki is smart af, What Did You Expect, You Have Been Warned, and for the rape warning, author sucks at writing, banana fish au, gang leader kuroo tetsurou, gangster au, lmao changed the rape warning into the major character death(s) one, well this is a banana fish au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingregret/pseuds/walkingregret
Summary: Kuroo is a somehow feared gang leader who's suddenly faced with a dying man with disconcerting dying words and even more unsettling mystery waiting to be unraveled.Just when he thought that things are already confusing as they were, he stumbled upon a really, really pretty yet annoyingly witty blond journalist/doctor and is forced to go against his own boss a.k.a the bitchy mafia don Oikawa Tooru.Basically a banana fish AU, with Kuroo as Ash and Tsukki as Eiji.*on hiatus*





	1. Where All The Problem Starts

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought that it'd be fun to see Kuroo in Ash's shoes and Tsukki in Eiji's.
> 
> For those who haven't read Banana Fish yet; It's a good manga/anime. just brace yourselves for the tears and shit.
> 
> *
> 
> SHOUTOUT TO [Andrea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaHastson) for giving me all the feedbacks, comments and criticisms! Can't wait for your next work, bruh. Good luck on your civil engineering bullshits lmao
> 
> hello. if you're new here, I really do apologize for the inconvenience. If you've been here before, I suggest skimming the first chapter again lmao sorry ;_;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're too lazy to re-read, I've made a summary of all the rewrites i did for this fic [ here. ](https://latefandomjumper.tumblr.com/post/185429248728/major-revisions-ive-done-so-far)

 

 

 

New York City.

 

They call it the city that never sleeps.

 

So does Tokyo and other big cities, Kuroo grumbled to himself.

It’s not that he hates his current home. It’s just the fact that he had to wake up this early to do some things that he doesn’t really want to do but has to nonetheless.

When Kuroo was younger, New York has always been an inspiration for him. It feels like the things he read from his old novels are actually true. From the most popular landmark - The Statue of Liberty - to Central Park, the tall buildings, yellow cabs, millions of people trying to live their lives, the cops, wall street, even the more unkempt side with abandoned buildings, murals and painted walls, people with saggy pants, piercings and snapbacks rapping and beatboxing wherever they go – it’s fascinating. Or you can just watch The Devil Wears Prada because that movie was 1) set in New York, and 2) is a classic. Kuroo loves classical shits.

Kuroo walks by, semi-parkouring on the rooftops of abandoned buildings located in the rundown area of New York City. His red varsity jacket is effectively protecting him from the winds from up here, his long legs clad in grey jeans and his old, worn Adidas shoes are helping him doing this incredibly silent walk. He’s keeping his head down, ignoring the beautiful sunrise glimmering from the east, painting the sky in orange and purple hues.

The other thing he ignored is the way the wind blows his already unkempt hair, even though he’s aware of it being worse with every second passed. Well, you can’t kill what’s already dead, can you? His will on styling his hair has died from a long time ago, so he doesn’t mind. At all.

Kuroo’s gaze is locked on a man who definitely looks like he’s horribly lost – he looks like he should’ve been on his way to his office on Manhattan’s financial district, holding coffee and running late because his toothbrush stuck on his razor this morning. Surprisingly, here he is; striding through the dark alleyways, looking back occasionally as if someone was following him. Fear and nervousness radiating from him; hell, Kuroo can even see the way his sweat drips from his chin from five stories above.

Nobody is following him. Kuroo has checked it twice. No, thrice.

The next thing that happened has answered Kuroo’s previous question. There are indeed nobody following him, because they just appeared in front of him. The man was halted by two men in gangster clothing. Not necessarily gangster fashion, actually. If the two of them were walking in a campus ground, they would pass as broke college students. Technically, the two of them were wearing hoodies, jeans, and converses. But this is a feared gangster’s territory, with their feared gang leader, so they should be gangsters. No college student will be sane enough to wander around in these kinds of areas, every people with common sense would have known that.

Boy, Kuroo hates gangsters with all his heart.

That has nothing to do with the reason why he is currently one of the most feared gang leaders in New York; has been running this territory for over four years now. He is well-respected, his men somewhat love him and his enemies fear him.

He recognized the two men from below as his own men and pouted, because he knows pretty damn well that he did not tell them to do anything, and yet, here they are, obviously running an errand for somebody else.

Kuroo squatted and observing every movement before suddenly, two loud gunshots rang in the air.

Kuroo’s stomach just did a somersault _._ In a millisecond, he disappeared from the rooftops, trying his best to keep himself incognito while biting his tongue so that no swearword came pouring out of his mouth.

 

***

 

The businessman is surprisingly still alive, crawling forward, trying to get out of the alley, with two men stepping aside to clear the path and to admire his sheer will. He’s leaving some heavy blood trail every time he moves. He’s also coughing blood, but he just doesn’t want to die yet.

The tall man with grey hair looks like he’s having the biggest mental conflict of his life. He’s proud that he finally got his first mercenary job, and yet, he’s disappointed in himself because of missing his first kill. Two shots and the man is still alive. He’s never felt so useless in his life before.

“I told you to aim for his heart,” the shorter, light-haired wide-eyed boy said, elbowing him on the stomach.

“sorry, I’ll try again,” the seemingly Russian man with grey hair answered, lifting his gun again to aim at his victim.

“What’s this, boys?” Kuroo said, voice light as he approached his men. His face is completely blank, however; he’s actually quite famous for being completely unreadable whilst reading everyone else like an open book.

“Kuroo-san!”

“Boss!”

Both the ordinary-looking man and the light-haired wide-eyed boy asked in tandem, their face paled in an instant. They heard nothing and saw nothing, they swear. It just seems like Kuroo appears from thin air.

Kuroo approached them, processing the whole scenario in a split second. His men; Tamahiko and Shiyabama. Two of his newest gang member. A dying man on the ground. How Shiyabama’s gun was pointed at the fallen men when Kuroo approached them, although now the gun is already hanging lifelessly on Shiyabama’s trembling hand.

When it hits him that it was probably Oikawa that probably told them to do this, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel a mix of anger and disappointment bubbling in his stomach. He forbid his men to kill anyone under any circumstances, whatever the reason. His men know that breaking this rule means facing Kuroo’s wrath, and God, no one wants that. There’s only one reason why they dared to break such an important rule, and Kuroo really hates it because there’s no way in hell he’s going to admit that he works for Oikawa. They work together, it’s just that Oikawa enjoys being a nosy little shit and tell him to do things and pay him… okay, maybe Kuroo does work for Oikawa, but that’s not the point.

Okay. Maybe Kuroo should admit that Oikawa is basically the mastermind of all underground activities happening in New York City. He’s basically a mafia don, and probably the youngest in existence. In Kuroo’s perspective, he’s a bitch.

“Oikawa told you to?”

“Yes! He told us to-“

“Tch.” Kuroo clicked his tongue, doing nothing to mask his utter distaste. “you better go before I shoot your head off.”

“But boss-“

“Haven’t I make myself clear?” Kuroo snapped, making his men jumped back in fear.

“Y-yes, boss!”

The light haired man scattered, pulling the ordinary boy with him. Well, that boy sure looks like a softie. A softie for a gangster’s standard, at least. He just shot a man with two bullets without killing him, _Jesus Christ._

After they left, Kuroo checked his surroundings before rushing to the slumped man. He has seen too many horrible stuff to consider the bloody man in front of him a heinous sight; it’s just another day for him in the mafia, but sure, the whole thing seemed so out of place for him. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Hey, hey,” Kuroo said, cradling the man’s head. He was choking out blood, and his eyes were looking at Kuroo as if he was the angel of death.

“F-Forty-two Westwood, L-Los Angeles…”

Kuroo stopped for a second. it was an address.

“What? What’s in there?”

“B-banana fish…”

Kuroo’s eyes widened, his pupils dilated, his jaw dropped.

He was utterly dumbfounded and almost didn’t notice the way the man’s hand searching for his, offering him something that looks like a metal cylinder that contains something. When he looks back at him, he just watches as the man’s eyes grew emptier and his breathing slowed down. He’s already dead.

 

Kuroo clutched his hands, sitting still as the sound of the wailing sirens getting louder and louder.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Suicide?” Nishinoya asked, nose scrunched up at the smell of blood. “Again?”

“Doubt that,” Daichi huffed, crossing his arm at the sight of a bloodied man slumped in front of him. The victim is holding a razor on his right hand, and his wrists are slit open. “It’s probably murder.”

“Murder?” Sugawara asked, looking at Daichi with curious eyes. “It’s not wise to jump into conclusions, Daichi.”

“Hmm. Bring all the reports to my office.”

 

 

 

The three of them arrived back at their office, the 51st precinct. Sugawara, being the most seasoned detective there, is taking pride from taking care of his team – Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Ennoshita. The four of them are talented in their own ways, and they have solved more cases than Daichi thought was possible to solve. Daichi, as the current captain of this precinct, is more than proud to have them as his team – they are so far the most hard-working team he has ever worked with.

The office is probably no different from the other police offices - it's stacked with paperwork, although the amount of paperwork varies – they reflect on their owner’s style and personality. Some people, like Tanaka, like to stack them up till they form mountains of finished paperwork. He likes to see it as a trophy. Ennoshita, on the other hand, likes to keep his desk clean so that he can do his work more efficiently.

“You believe it’s not a suicide, Daichi-san?” Tanaka says, with a bunch of maps in his hands. His badge is glimmering on his chest; out of all Daichi’s men, Tanaka - and probably Nishinoya - are the proudest out of them. They are so proud of being members of the NYPD. There was not a single day when Tanaka forgets to polish his badge.

“I have a bad feeling about this, so for now, let’s just investigate deeper,” Daichi commented, signaling his detective team to go to his office. “You too, Asahi!”

“U-Uh, yeah!”

 

 

The captain’s office is probably a bit too small for the six of them, but it’s private and privacy is all that matters right now. Daichi doesn’t need another man to know what they are up to, even if it was one of his other subordinates. The office was neat, with wooden nuance and ambient lighting. Daichi opened one of his locked cabinets with a key he always keeps in his pocket and pulled out a huge file box. He selected four smaller files and pulled them out, throwing them onto the table.

“Here are the last four suicide cases.” Daichi opens up the files one by one to reveal the victim’s cases and personal background. Asahi was the last one to enter the captain’s office, closing the door behind him. “None of them were your usual interpretation of model citizen, not even close. One is a real estate broker. Then here, we have an amateur journalist Kathleen Lights. Then we have him, Kai Boyle, a restaurant owner, suspected for moonlighting as an information broker. Then our last case; Naoki Greenhead, an alcohol importer. All of them had not-so-clean hands.”

“Maybe they were forced to kill themselves?” Noya collaborated.

“Two of them had had witnesses. Boyle is one of our most peculiar cases. He’s not on drugs, and even as a restaurant owner, he was not a drinker. He jumped out of his own restaurant from the 20th floor onto the busy streets. From the CCTV cam, it was seen that he was acting weird before finally jumped off.”

“Poisoned?”

“Thought so, but there were no traces of anything peculiar on the food he ate, nor the restaurant in general. The dirty business he ran seemed to be only for him and himself; not even his coworkers know a thing.”

“They could be lying.”

“They could. He was dirty otherwise.”

“Sorry for the abrupt change of topic, but…” Nishinoya said, “how about the two reporters from Japan?”

“Shiiiiit,” Tanaka said, face-palming dramatically. “I told them that they could go with Hinata.”

“Tanaka, you dumbass-“

“I’ll go with them,” Daichi said, folding the cases back into its original positions on his desk. “Asahi, Nishinoya, I want you two to do another background check on the four victims, see if they had anything alike.”

“got that.”

“Tanaka, can you please pay Hinata a visit? I’ll give you further instructions when you have all set.”

“Alright.”

“Alright, dismissed.”

 

 

 

_Earlier that day, on the other side of the town…._

 

 

 

 

“Allllright, two of you. Yesterday you killed a businessman without my approval nor my acknowledgment,” Kuroo walked in casually on the gang meeting. All of his gang members were there, in the filthy side of the New York City; a demolished building, right in the center of Kuroo’s area. All that’s left from the building was just the remaining of a wall that used to be there. Now, it creates an image of a barrier that shields them from the outside world, thus making this whole gang meeting feels private.

“Please, boss, we’re sorry! We won’t do it again-“

A knife came flying out of nowhere, stabbing through Shiyabama’s jacket without hurting him, but effectively nailing him to the wooden plank behind him. Nobody saw Kuroo pulled out his knife. He did that so casually that it looked like it wasn’t a big deal for him.

They all stiffened up.

“I would love to let both of you go since I’m a good guy and all that, but that’s not how that works here, hmmm?” Kuroo pulled out his suppressed Beretta M9 out of his pocket and spin it on the air with his fingers before pointed the gun right at Tamahiko, who starts shivering even worse than before. Kuroo’s signature side grin is plastered on his face, turning Shiyabama paler than he already was. “If you weren’t my boys, and your boss caught you red-handed like I did yesterday, you would’ve been dead by now. Have you ever considered that?”

“Y-yy-yes, boss, but I swear, I’m never doing that again! Just-“

Kuroo pulled the trigger, resulting in a muffled sound of a gunshot. _  
_

Shiyabama felt something wet trickling down his neck. When he touches his ear, all he felt was a throbbing sensation and something dripping. Kuroo just shot his ear.

“You proved to me that you think Oikawa’s orders are higher than mine,” Kuroo said, his smug expression faded into a chill expression. It’s creepy, especially in this situation. “You won’t be able to prove otherwise.” Kuroo lowered his gun. “Go, both of you.”

“P-pardon?”

Another shot. This time, it’s an inch away from their shoes. “You heard me. Don’t ever let me see your faces again.”

“But-but-where can we go?”

Two more shots, both hit their sides respectively. The shot was eerily precise, they just grazed their ribs, but with no further damage. Kuroo waved his arms on his sides like a man who’s having a ridiculous argument with his wife. “Anywhere but New York! Get a job! Be a cashier at Mc Donald’s or whatever, I don’t care!” Kuroo whined, generally exasperated. “Look, if you don’t wanna leave this city, that’s fine, but in return, you gotta leave this world. This is aimed at your heads.” Kuroo said, lifting his gun again to aim for their heads.

“I don’t think Kuroo-san is that bad-“

“You dumbfuck, run!!” Tamehiko cried, dragging him by the sleeve as they ran and ran, and ran.

“We are not Oikawa’s pets.” Kuroo’s thundering voice efficiently putting everything into silent; it was as if the time was halted. In an instant, the wind is the only thing audible at the scene. “Whatever he says, whatever everyone else is saying, we are not pets. We are free men. Obey this and I shall protect you with my life. Defy me and god knows what I will do to you.”

“If you’d just gonna set us free, then I guess your threat is just nothing but an empty-“

A silent gunshot.

The man fell, and only at that moment, everybody realized that in fact, Kuroo shot him – without any hesitation, right in the middle of the forehead.

Silence fell, for the umpteenth time since this meeting started.

 

Kuroo slipped his gun back onto his waistband. “Dismissed.”

 

 

 

“Bro, that was insane, shooting your man just like that. And with a suppressed Beretta? Sometimes I forgot that your aim is that good!” Bokuto said, jogging up to catch up Kuroo.

Bokuto Kotarou is Kuroo’s right-hand man and second in command. Even though technically Bokuto is Kuroo’s subordinate, there’s a bond deeper than what a subordinate would have with their superiors. They’re friends. Moreover, they’re bros. they trust each other, and they’d do anything for each other.

Kuroo closed his eyes and breathed in the still-fresh New York air that you can only get when you’re out before the sunrise. “He was dealing stuff behind my back. He deserved it.”

“You’re telling me that you planned that?”

“Maybe.”

Bokuto laughed, loud and carefree. “Sometimes, you’re scary as shit, bro.”

“Well, I’m not the one whose signature move was bashing their enemies’ skulls in one go.”

Bokuto grimaced at the memory of his old, dark days. He was cold-blooded, yeah, he’d admit that, but he changed, he swears! “Hey! That was ages ago.”

“Reputations don’t die that quickly, Bo.”

“They sure don’t, bro,” Bokuto grinned, slapping Kuroo’s back where his gun was kept. Kuroo smiled, and when his bro was gone, his smile fell.

He sighed as he began his own walk to his apartment.

 

 

Kuroo walked into his apartment with surgeon-level carefulness and locked the door behind him. His apartment is a simple one, sure. It was located in the run-down area, and his neighbor was a 60-year-old pianist who spent 60% of his time playing that one Chopin that he failed to do for the past decade he’s been living in this apartment. Even though everything seems normal, when it comes to Kuroo, it is certain that in fact, nothing is normal.

He gripped the vial from his bedside table, walked to the back of the apartment to unlock a wooden door and open it really slowly.

“Ken,” Kuroo huffed, sorrow reflected from his eyes. he sat on a chair beside the bed, holding his friend’s frail hands gently and squeezed it ever so slightly.

A small man with long, blonde hair and black roots was lying on the bed, his gaze is empty yet scared, his breathing normal, but his skin was as pale as a comatose.

“I found this vial inside the weird necklace the dead man gave me,” he said, his voice low as he shook the vial to ensure himself that the content is, in fact, a suspicious white powder, before putting it back into his pocket. “I might have found a clue… but I don’t know what to do.” Kuroo said, kissing the hand in his grasp. Kenma is unmoving, his gaze empty, mouth opened ever so slightly.

“Banana fish…” Kenma whispered, his voice almost unintelligible. Kuroo sighs. Kenma has been saying the same thing over and over for the last four years and nothing else. Ever since he fell sick, “banana fish” is the only thing he says since then.

“I know, I know,” Kuroo says, his brows furrowed. _Conflicted_ is the right word to describe what he feels right now. When Kenma let out a shaky sound, Kuroo realized that he’s been crushing his hand with his grip. He let go immediately, cursing himself for hurting his friend. “That bitch has something to do with this. I know chances are slim if I decided to go against him, but…”

He sighed, caressing Kenma’s long, blonde hair, “I promised that I’ll do anything for you. And that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna solve this. I’m gonna find out what caused you to be… like…”

Kuroo zoned out. How’s he gonna find out? What were his men doing? Why were they trying to kill them? Were they trying to get rid of this exact thing Kuroo’s currently holding? Or were they just trying to eliminate the man? Why was there not a single ID on that man’s body? He’s a John Doe. Was he important? How can he get the man’s ID? Well, he does know someone who works on the morgue, but… Alright, he needs to know the man’s name and all.

A ring on his phone is all it takes to wake him up from his long train of thoughts. He checked the caller’s ID. It was Nobuyuki Kai, One of Kuroo’s most faithful member. Kai was so good at handling people and relationships that Kuroo has unofficially promoted him as his spokesperson.

“Yeah?” Kuroo said as soon as he answered the phone.

“Kuroo, the two journalists are here.”

“Two jou– oh, shit,” Kuroo’s eye widened as he realizes his schedule for today is way busier than he thought. He quickly kissed Kenma’s forehead, grabbed the vial and walked out of Kenma’s room. “I’m gonna be there in five.”

“Usual bar?”

“Usual bar.” Kuroo hung up, picked his leather jacket and ran out of his apartment. His mind is scattered, and holy fuck does he not want to do the goddamn interview right now, but a promise is a promise and he has never broken a single promise ever since he was born (or so he thought).

 _This goddamn interview has got to be interesting or I’m killing myself,_ Kuroo thought to himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh idk what I'm doing but at least I'm having fun.
> 
> I merged the first two chapters into one chapter and... uh... yeah, well, I kinda rewrote it.
> 
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!


	2. Have You Ever Killed A Person?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KUROO FINALLY MEETS TSUKKI HOOT HOOT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my last work before I embark on another long hiatus.
> 
>  
> 
> I apologize if this fic wasn't good enough or if it's not what you hoped it would be. Anyway, please enjoy.

 

 

 

“The vial’s gone.”

“really?” Oikawa rose from his couch, pulling off his Gucci glasses.

Oikawa Tooru is currently the mafia don of New York; breaking the records of being the youngest Mafia boss ever in history. He’s known as incredibly hard-working, calm, manipulative and ruthless. However, he was able to gain the utmost respect from his subordinates. Oikawa was more than capable to bring out the best in almost everyone, treating them with respect, praise them when they get the job done and only punish his subordinates when the mistakes they made are fatal. He thought that Kuroo was just like his other subordinates. He knew that Kuroo is slightly smarter and more cunning than the others, but now, he realized that he’s one of Kuroo’s victims.

Not for long.

“that rooster-haired bastard,” Oikawa says with a smile, venom seething from his words. “is that the only sample we have?”

“y-y-yes, boss. Without the original sample, we won’t be able to produce the amount you needed.”

Oikawa turns around, hiding his frown and frustrated face. “Call Daishou. We have an important thing to do.” He turns back to face Iwaizumi who was standing not far from him, clad in a black suit and gelled hair; a contrast to Oikawa’s outfit that consists of a very expensive bathrobe and nothing else. “We have to retrieve that vial back at all cost. Just don’t kill our beloved black cat. I have a wonderful idea for his punishment.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Daichi, they’re here.”

Daichi rose from his seat as he rushes to the two journalists standing in the middle of the office. Everyone’s attention is on them, especially the journalist. One is a shy, freckled boy, while the other one is what caught the whole precinct’s attention; he wears glasses, he’s freakishly tall, and his hair is golden, almost sandy. Not what you’d expect when they tell you about Japanese reporters.

“A-ah, I was told that Hinata Shoyou could not greet us, so we were instructed to go here instead…” the freckles boy said, nervousness radiating from him. He seemed to be so taken aback with his surroundings; it pretty much looked like the thing you’d see in cop shows. Desks filled with papers _everywhere_. There were coffee mugs, but he saw no donuts. Yamaguchi pouted when he realized he just believed a false stereotype.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Sawamura Daichi, captain of this precinct. You can call me Daichi.”

“N-nice to meet you, Daichi-san! I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi, and this is my… my colleague, Tsukishima Kei.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tsukishima said, shaking Daichi’s hand. Tsukishima grimaced at the strength of Daichi’s grip.

“I know you were expecting Hinata’s company, but due to unfortunate circumstances, he couldn’t be here, so I’ll help you instead.” Daichi’s smile is really warm; it makes Yamaguchi felt a bit overwhelmed.

“Um… yeah, about that…. Where is he?” Yamaguchi asked.

“He’s in prison.”

“what?”

 

 

“I know you’ve explained to us the reasons why you are doing this, but I found it rather hard to believe, so… can I ask again?” Daichi laughed, but Tsukishima can see the nervousness behind that laugh. “you wanted to make a journal about New York’s gangs, right?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“No need to be so tense with me, Yamaguchi-kun. Gangs are dangerous and sometimes, they’re tied with mafias, but most of them are pretty much harmless to the normal civilians. There’s one gang with one leader that maybe – just maybe – can be persuaded into an interview, just like you want.”

“what kind of gang are they?”

“Just recently, we found a clue that they might be tied with the mafias, but they could be a freelancer for all we know. they’re specialized on handling imported goods, dealing with payments, etc. so far, they’ve never been caught by us – they never leave a trace, and everything they do is strictly for the underworld business.”

Yamaguchi let out a soft whine, his lips quirked up in a smile but his eyes were full of uncertainty and doubt. Tsukishima, on the other hand, has not shown any kind of response – his face is still as flat as usual. Daichi was almost tempted to ask him what’s on his mind, but he shrugged and continued his explanation. “we’ve been trying to catch those guys but they always proved to be innocent somehow. Man, there’s something about their leader that just give me the feels that he’s a crafty guy.”

“the leader?” Tsukishima asked. Daichi was not expecting a question from Tsukishima, but it was welcomed nevertheless.

“yeah, the leader. The leader’s capability and personality reflect on his team. He’s… how do I say this? he’s called “the scheming leader”. Always has some tricks up his sleeves. There’s one time when he helped solving an almost-unsolvable case. Two weeks after the case is closed, we found out that his main objection was to get his rival – the man who was currently in our custody – to be caught by the police. Turns out that it was not him helping us, he was using us to help him.”

“sounds interesting,” Tsukishima responded, face still flat as usual. “where can we find him?”

“I’ll take you to him,” Daichi said.

Yamaguchi’s mouth fell open. “but you’re the captain!” he cried.

“I kinda owe Hinata for this. after all, Ennoshita will take care of everything. right?”

Ennoshita, who was in the middle of stacking up paperwork and files, suddenly jumped to face Daichi. He was hoping that his ears were the ones that need to be prepared, but no; Daichi’s smile is just too genuine. “me?” Ennoshita asked, pointing at himself in utter disbelief.

“Yeah, you. Now come on. According to my informant, your gang leader is waiting for you.”

“You’ve arranged an interview?”

“Of course I did. I told you, I kinda owe Hinata something.”

 

 

 

 

 

Central Park has always been a beautiful place for Daichi. Since Suga also loves this place, there’s no reason for him not to go to this place every so often. the peak of summer has passed, replaced by the days where summer is slowly changing into autumn and the air gets colder but still relatively warm and enjoyable. The trees and the fresh are some really nice change from his office in the precinct, and he can tell from Yamaguchi’s awestruck expression that Yamaguchi really did not expect to find such a beautiful park in the middle of New York. Tsukishima’s expression is still flat, however. His eyes maybe went a little bit wider, but it’s written all over his face that he’s heard of this place possibly millions of times, seen it on TV, or maybe imagining being here. Maybe he’s been here before because his expression certainly does not match those of tourists’.

“you’ve been here?”

“No,” Tsukishima said, face still straight. “it’s my first time in the US.”

“You don’t look like a pure Japanese, though, Tsukishima-kun.”

“My mom’s german.”

“Ahh, so that’s where you get the blonde hair and golden eyes.”

Tsukishima kept silent.

 

The pathway leads to an open area where a fountain beautifully sat in the middle of the open area, surrounded by benches and people walking their dogs. There was a man standing next to the fountain, facing them. The man’s appearance is… well, ordinary. His head is shaved, sporting a short and almost bald hairstyle. He has tanned skin and wide, brown eyes. he has intense eyebrows as well. He wore a long-sleeved shirt, rolled up at its sleeves, showing his surprisingly muscly yet somehow soft-looking arms. He also wore simple black jeans and sports shoes. Overall, this dude looks like your average college student.

“It’s good to see you, Kai,” Daichi said, shaking Kai hand with definitely more force than usual. Kai’s face remains unchanged despite Daichi’s iron grip; he must’ve been used to it.

“pleasure’s all mine. Are these the reporters?”

“Uuhh – huh, yeah! It’s nice to meet you, my name is Yamaguchi Tadashi and this is my colleague, Tsukishima Kei.”

Tsukishima nodded, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m Nobuyuki Kai. I was told that you are here to interview Kuroo, yeah?”

“Is that his name? Kuroo?”

Kai shot them a questioning look, before turning to Daichi. Daichi laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “I haven’t told them about Kuroo’s name nor appearance.”

“Ahh, is that so. I’m sorry, Daichi-san, I know we’ve been working together for years, but Kuroo is a bit on edge lately, so we decided that police involvement is unnecessary.”

Daichi’s eyes grew wide, looking at Kai and his guests respectively. “I’m not sure about this…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect them with my life.”

“In fact, I trust you more than Kuroo. I know you know it.”

Kai laughed, light and carefree. This makes Yamaguchi’s gears grind so hard in his head. is this guy actually a part of a gang…? It sure doesn’t look like it.

             

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Tsukishima takes a deep breath. He has an idea of what’s gonna be on the other side of the door.

And he’s right. The insides of this underground bar are exactly what Tsukishima imagined – it smells like cheap cigarettes and alcohol, the walls are made of red bricks, and there’s a neat bar with all the bottles placed neatly on the shelf and stools lined in front of it. Tsukishima felt a hand gripped his arms, and he doesn’t even need to look that it was Yamaguchi. Of course, he’d be intimidated by these places.

The patrons on the bar turn their head when they heard the sound of the bell jingly; their gazes bored on to the trio that just came in. The three of them looks so lost in this place, but Tsukishima could feel that it’s only him and Yamaguchi that gets their attention.

“it’s fine, guys,” Kai says, voice light as usual. “there. You see that hair?”

“whoa,” is all that Tsukishima could say. He almost made a joke involving hair gels and hairsprays, but thank god that his common sense is reminding him that he’s in dangerous territory.

Why was he here, actually? Oooh, right. Yamaguchi kept pestering him about his new idea about American gangs and street organizations and when they got the permission to make a journal about it, Yamaguchi was so happy that he bought a ten-year-old wine and celebrated with his beloved roommate, Tsukishima. This means a lot for Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima doesn’t have the heart to tell him no.

However, he couldn’t lie to himself. He already missed his pillow. He doesn’t care about this. he wants to go home.

“Boss, here are the journalists I told you about,” Kai says as they approaching a table on the side of the room, right next to the wall. There are three chairs around the table, with one side of the table hitting the wall next to it.

Kuroo’s eyes widen before his lips pulled into his signature smirk.

“Not what I thought when they say Japanese,” Kuroo says, flashing Tsukishima a cat-like smirk. Tsukishima gulps. “is this a trick? Are you a spy, sent to monitor my every move?” He continues, eyes never leaving the blonde.

Both journalists are nailed on where they were standing.

“Because baby I wouldn’t mind being watched 24/7 by you,” Kuroo whispered dramatically, before exploding into hyena-like laughter. “your face! You should look at your face!” he clutched at his stomach, trying his best to dampen his laughs – which failed miserably as some people around them shot them dirty glares.

“Did he just… threaten me with a horrible pick-up line?” Tsukishima said to Kai, his face scrunched up in disgust. “what is he, twelve?”

“Hey I’m right here, you know,” Kuroo says, waving his arms as he tries to contain himself and straighten his seat back. “And no, I’m 24. Sit down right here, fellas. Thanks, Nobuyuki.” Kai nods then went to sit on one of the bar’s stools and ordered something to drink.

“so. Uh… your name is Kuroo?” Yamaguchi asked hesitantly.

“yup.”

“You’re 24. How did you become a gang leader?”

“Uhh… my friends chose me, I guess.”

“Alright. So… voting, huh?”

“Hmm.” Kuroo hummed as an answer. It wasn’t a “yes” nor a “no”; he just left him hanging.

“What job do your gang take?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On demands.”

“And whose demands, may I ask?”

Kuroo shrug. “my clients’, of course.”

“Could you… uh… tell me about your clients?”

“Unfortunately no.”

Yamaguchi huffed in frustration. “have you ever killed a person?”

“Hmm.” Kuroo hummed again. “If I say no, would you believe me?” he says, his smirk never leaving his face.

“Well, uh….” Suddenly, Yamaguchi’s grip on his own pen became so strong that the plastic almost cracks.

 

 ***

 

“Damn it. It’s no use!” Yamaguchi sighed, slumping on the bar right next to Nobuyuki Kai. Kai only smiled, ordering whiskey for Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi lifts his head when his drink comes, and gulped half of its contents. Kai chuckles when he saw Yamaguchi’s shocked face – he’s obviously didn’t drink too much back in his hometown.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing! That guy’s always dodging my question.” Yamaguchi buries his face on his arms, masking his exasperated face. “maybe I could ask about you instead, Kai-san.”

“Me? I’m just an informant,” Kai says, smiling fondly when he turns his head to look at his boss. “seems like your friend is doing a better job than you.”

“Wha-? Oh, shit, I left Tsukki? Tsukki – “

“Shhh, leave them be.”

 

***

 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be a journalist here? Why don’t you ask me a question?”

“I dunno, you don’t seem to be the type who answers questions honestly,”

“Are you saying that I’m a liar?”

“I’m just pointing out the answers you just gave my colleague a couple of minutes ago.”

“Oh? Are you implying that you _knew_ I’ve killed a guy?”

“That’s a silly question. Of course yes, and don’t even try to deny it.”

Kuroo hummed, leaning his chin in his arms, hiding his smirk coyly. “What if I choose to deny it?”

“Mmm, thought so. Can you hand me your gun?”

 

Kai’s jaw hung low.

 

“Sure, blondie.”

Kuroo pulled the gun from the back side of his jeans and handle it to Tsukishima like it’s nothing. Tsukishima inspected the gun for a bit, and what shocked Kuroo is when he released the cartridge, checked the bullets, and slide it back.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima said, handling his gun back.

“Found anything, Sherlock?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugged as an answer. That doesn’t satiate Kuroo much.

“Come on, I’ve given you my baby. Entertain me with that witty brain of yours.”

Tsukishima squints, staring at Kuroo in disbelieving. When he finally gets a picture of what Kuroo actually wants, he leans back on his chair and sighed. “It’s obvious that you used it quite often. And I’m guessing that it once belonged to someone very special to you. Let’s say… a friend, when you were still in the army?”

Kuroo’s smirk fell, his pupils dilated for a second. When Tsukishima smirked, knowing that he’s hit the right spot, Kuroo tries to put his mask back on; his signature smirk. “that’s quite impressive, glasses-kun. You could make a wonderful detective.”

“I’m on my way to be a surgeon.”

“No way. Medical student?”

Tsukishima's eyes met with Kuroo's. _I thought he already did background research on me, Tsukishima thought._ “this was supposed to be my summer holiday.”

“It’s still a summer holiday. say, I know a great place that sells the best pizza in town. Interested?”

Tsukishima shot him a baleful glare.

 

 

 

“I can’t believe Tsukki beat me,” Yamaguchi said in disbelief.

“No one has ever touched his gun before. A thug once tried to steal it, and he lost all his ten fingers.”

Yamaguchi felt goosebumps rising on his neck. “and I asked him if he has killed somebody.”

Kai laughed again. “Yamaguchi-san, he was a soldier. Of course, he has killed somebody.”

“dang it, I knew it!”

One thing for sure; Kai was an easy guy. Yamaguchi felt way more comfortable talking with this guy rather than their leader. It was hard for Yamaguchi to believe that Kai was actually a member of a certain gang and that he does dirty things to survive this harsh reality.

 

Suddenly, Kuroo’s phone rang. Tsukishima peeked on the caller’s ID; “Nosy Owl”.

“What's up, Bo?”

“Bro, get out of there!”

“what-“

 

 

The door banged open. The loud noise was more than enough to steal all of the people’s attention across the bar.

It was Daishou, Kuroo’s own man and some of Oikawa’s men. Kuroo couldn’t recognize any of his men among them. In a millisecond, it all clicked in his head that 1) Oikawa was after him, 2) The vial was more important than he thought, 3) he was digging into a very deep hole here.

“Get down!” Kuroo hissed, pulling Tsukishima’s arm harshly until they were ducked underneath the chair. Less than a second later, gunshots rang in the air, filled with some more sounds of bones cracking and fists flying, hitting god knows what.

Tsukishima thought that he was safe, with the infamous Kuroo underneath the table, but when he turned around, Kuroo wasn’t there anymore.

Of course he was fighting. Tsukishima was mesmerized by Kuroo’s quick reflexes and insane flexibility when he leapt through a dining table to kick an armed guy square on his jaw, but then his instincts came back and he came searching for a better place to hide. He slid through the bar and landed on the other side of the bar on his ass. Tsukishima hissed on the sharp pain that erupted from his ass, but then his attention was stolen by somebody who just did the same maneuver Tsukishima performed five seconds ago. Only this time, he landed safely on his feet, and he’s carrying a gun.

Turns out it was Kai.

“Kai! Where’s Yamaguchi?”

“He’s safe! I hope,” Kai said, reloading his gun. “He’s on the other side of the room, near the gigantic table.”

Tsukishima quickly peeked up, trying to locate Yamaguchi.

“Hey, they’ll see us!” Kai snapped, pulling Tsukishima back.

It was too late.

“there they are!” Tsukishima heard somebody screamed, and before he could process it, Kai was pulling his arm, and they were both running; in the midst of an intense bar fight.

“I know a way out!” Kai spoke, pulling Tsukishima onto the other side of the bar.

“Wait, Kai! It was a trap!” Kuroo screamed, realizing that the two of them were heading onto the secret passage. Before he could reach them, a chair went flying over his head. Kuroo ducked just at the right time and elbowed the chair holder’s stomach, stealing the chair as the air was emptied from the attacker’s lungs and used the chair to hit him on his head.

When Kuroo turned around, Kai and Tsukishima have already disappeared.

 

 _

 

 

“We’re safe here,” Kai says, lifting the heavy sewer lid. He climbed out, before finally helping Tsukishima getting out of the narrow passage.

Just as the two of them finally stepped their feet on the asphalt, Tsukishima heard a click, followed by something cold and hard pressing against the back of his head.

“Tsukishima, run-“ Kai screamed, pulling his gun out of its holster. But before they both could move any further, Tsukishima was hit by a pipe right on his head, effectively knocked him out cold. Kai made a fatal mistake by turning around to assess his guest, in which his perpetrators took advantage by hitting him on his head as well.

 

“Tsukki!! Kai!!” Kuroo screamed, looking all disheveled from the fight. His outer shirt was torn, his jeans are slightly bloody. He ran, trying to catch the white van; but it was no use. Without thinking any further, he grabbed the nearest motorbike and doing his best to get the engine started.

“Kuroooo!” Bokuto yelled, with the rest of Kuroo’s gang hot on his trail. “I just got the news. My kids told me that Oikawa just sent Daishou on a mission, and I’ve got a really bad feeling about it. turns out I was right.”

“I should’ve kicked him out when I had the chance,” Kuroo said, finally getting the engine started. He took a helmet that was resting near the bike and secured it on his head. “They took Tsukki. The other journalist is still inside, don’t let anything happen to him!”

"But - Kuroo!"

And with that, Kuroo was gone.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm depressed and I shouldn't be here ffs
> 
> i think this whole fic *was* kinda rushed. I should've been studying, urgh. I'm facing the biggest exam of my life and what am I doing instead? WRITING A BLOODY CHAPTER
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING AND PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. EVEN IF YOU THINK IT'S BAD. BECAUSE I LIVE OFF OF COMMENTS.


	3. For Tsukki, Kuroo's Nothing But A Dumb Bedhead With A Grin

 

 

 

 

              “Well, well, well, look who we’ve got here.”

 

              The black cloth was pulled abruptly off Tsukishima’s head, ruffling his already ruffled blonde mess of a hair. His glasses are gone, and everything’s a blur. He can’t even see the faces in front of him, their heads were all beige-colored with no facial features such as noses and eyes. Yep, that’s how bad Tsukishima’s eyesight was.

              “Daishou you fucking snake!” Nobuyuki yelled. Tsukishima turned around, realizing that Kai is tied – just like him – and is sitting right next to him. He’s also a blurry mess.

              Great. Fucking great.

              “I’m sure that your precious boss will arrive in a minute. and who’s this blond bitch? One of Kuroo’s fucktoy?”

              “Nah, he wouldn’t be able to afford me,” Tsukishima said, heads down.

              Daishou whistled. “Oooh, I like your confidence. Maybe you could be my fucktoy. I don’t need to “afford” you. We can just rape you – fuck your pretty mouth right here, right now.”

              “Actually, I don’t care. Let’s fuck. It’s been months since my last proper one.”

              Daishou’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. When everything finally clicks on his head, his eyes widened and his mouth curved down into a frown. He looks pissed.

              “you think you can trick me, bitch? You’re just sweet talking me, don’t you? I’m gonna make you my toy just for fun. I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care who you work with.”

              “Tsukishima, what are you doing?!“

              Tsukishima cursed on the inside. his heart’s beating like crazy, but he just gotta keep cool and think a way to get out of this situation.

              “You call that sweet talking? Man, you must be a virgin.” Tsukishima sneered.

              A harsh punch on the face. _Way to go_ , Tsukishima thought.

              Tsukishima could feel the metallic taste of blood on his inner cheek. Damn, that hurts.

              “You reminds me of Kuroo so much,” Daishou whispered to one of his underlings. “I hate it.”

              “You seem like hating this Kuroo guy so much. Why?”

              Gosh, this is the first time Tsukishima talked this much since the last time he did his presentation in front of his class. He hates it, it’s tiring.

              “Ha! Do you think you can bait me into releasing you? Do you think I don’t know what you want? I can read your steps. You’re looking for an opening. You’re waiting for me to make a mistake so you can run. That’s not going to happen, bitch. That rooster-haired bastard is going to come here. You’re a bait. After this, I’m not gonna release you. Unlike Kuroo, I’m not gay. I’m just keeping you so my men could fuck you till you die. Sounds good, guys?” Daishou said, yelling the last bits of his speech, which gains him some catcalls and whistles from his men.

              Tsukishima couldn’t think of any comebacks. In any normal situation, he would’ve been way saltier than this. Now that fear has overtaken his salt drive, he feels like he’s going numb. The threat is real. Damn it, his glasses are gone! He might be tied in a random warehouse whilst receiving some death and/or rape threats in the process, sure, but more importantly, his glasses are gone and he can’t see shit. He can’t even remember the bastard named Daishou’s face so that he could mark him for… future references.

              Well, never mind that. He doesn’t need his eyesight to hear, and the sound of a bike’s engine revving before halted into a complete silence is enough to tell him that someone’s coming to rescue him.

              There’s a guy standing right in front of the warehouse’s entrance, judging by the blurry silhouette that unsurprisingly looks like any other human being from Tsukishima’s current point of view. Well, at least he can tell the clothes he’s wearing and something black on top of his head… yep. That’s definitely Kuroo.

              “You don’t want them, Daishou. You want me, not them.”

              _We’re saved. I can finally get out of here._ Tsukishima thought, smiling faintly to hide his actual euphoria.

              “we’re saved,” Tsukishima whispered. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Kai smiling, looking at Kuroo with hope and gratitude.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

              “You’re a disappointment.” Tsukishima sneered bitterly as the door leading to the small, cramped room is closed with a loud bang.

              Kuroo chuckled, but then regretted it immediately as his bruised cheeks are stinging with pain every time he made a move. Kuroo is all beaten up, but Tsukishima knew that he will get beaten up again if nothing changes.

              “Can’t you see that I’m – ah –“ Kuroo whined, laying on his back and making a disgruntled noise. Kai looked incredibly concerned, and he didn’t even need to say it out loud for Tsukishima to know that he doesn’t like him. How can this blond telephone pole say that when his boss is all fucked up? “I think I broke a few ribs there. Examine me, o’ mighty med stud.” The last words were almost unintelligible. His voice broke into a croak, and Tsukishima clicked his tongue. Is this the feared gang leader Kuroo? Tsukishima was unimpressed.

 

 

 

 

              _twenty minutes earliler…._

 

        _“You know how damn good I am at handling my gun, snake.” Kuroo spat out the last word as if it contains venom in it. “let them go.”_

_“Actually, I’m not the one who will be doing that.”_

_“You’ve been avoiding me. I’m hurt, Tetsu-chan!” says a completely irrelevant-looking guy, stepping out of the darkness of the warehouse. Kuroo has originally ignored his_ presence _since he counted him as one of Daishou's men, but his voice reminds him of something else._

_That voice…_

_“Oikawa.” Kuroo clicked his tongue. He should’ve seen this through._

_“You did not come when I asked you to. When I sent my men, you weren’t there. You were never there. You were avoiding me. You were being uncooperative, Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa stepped forward dramatically as if the whole scene was a movie set, and a camera was directly pointed at him. Kuroo frowned at the sight of him. Without Iwaizumi to tame him, Oikawa is a full-on dramatic bitch. A nightmare._

_“what do you want, Oikawa?” Kuroo said, his brows furrowed._

_“I’m hurt! You stole what’s mine, and you ran away from me! Like a real thief you are.”_

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

_Oikawa chuckled darkly. “just like every guilty person would say.”_

_“you fucker, I never even ate those stupid glossy fruits on your dining table-“_

_“Don’t play dumb. The vial, Kuroo. The vial.”_

_“Vial? What vial?”_

_“you don’t know what you’re getting into, boy.” Oikawa crosses his arms, tilting his head sideways unimpressively. “just hand over that thing. You don’t want Daishou to beat the fuck out of you.”_

_“Oh, is that a threat?”_

_“you do realize that you are helpless, and as always, I have the upper hand, right?”_

_“the only thing I know is that I realized you were always a bitch, and always will be.”_

_And with that, Kuroo was pulled back into the warehouse. As he fell, Daishou is already above him, kicking his pride out of him._

 

 

 

              “I don’t know for sure,” Tsukishima says, slipping a random bundle of cloth under Kuroo’s head to make him a bit more comfortable. “But let’s patch the cuts first. Did they stab you?”

              “you’re the doctor, you tell me.”

              Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, frowning for the hundredth time that day. “Seriously?”

              Kuroo grinned. “no, I haven’t been stabbed. yet.”

              Tsukishima’s frown grew lower. “We need to get out.”

              “No shit, Sherlock. How long does It take for you to realize that?”

              He ignored him. “Kai, are you willing to do anything for him?”

              “Sure, man.”

              In one swift movement, Tsukishima ripped a piece of cloth off Kai’s shirt and wrapped it around a long gash on Kuroo’s right bicep. Both Kai and Kuroo were dumbfounded, and it probably took Kai a bit too long to process the things Tsukishima just did. More importantly, what he just did to his shirt, and how he does it so casually and effortlessly like he’s done this million times before.

              “You said you’d do anything for him,” Tsukishima said before Kai could say a word. Kuroo’s eyes were wide, looking at how focused Tsukishima was tending to his wound before finally, Kuroo exploded in a[n ugly] laugh.

              Kuroo would deny this to the grave, but Kai could see how amazed he was to the tall blond. Maybe finally Kuroo found a guy that can keep up with him and read his schemes like he always wanted. Kai doesn’t know what to say, really. The way Kuroo was looking at Tsukishima with a smile on his face and eyes full of adoration and awe – Kai has never seen him like this before, and Kai doesn’t know how to react.

              “Ouch. Easy there,” Kuroo said, wincing at the unnecessary force Tsukishima used to tie a final knot on Kuroo’s makeshift gauze.

              “I have an idea,” Tsukishima said, staring straight into Kuroo’s eyes. Kuroo would’ve been mesmerized by the warmth of his amber eyes, but Tsukishima slapped him back into reality (literally) and proceed to tell his plan.

 

 

 

              “Where have you been?!” Tsukishima screamed the moment the door was opened.

              Of course, Daishou and his other two men are confused as fuck when he saw the commendation in front of them. Inside the dark and dusty room, Kuroo was having a seizure. His eyes are wide and looking into emptiness, his mouth is opened and filled with foam.

              “You fuckers, traumatic spinal cord injury caused by your reckless beatings continued by insufficient information you gave us that caused further discomfort by lack of proper lumbar support has triggered a series of spinal cord seizures. Give me a hand right now!”

              Daishou was a smart guy. Kuroo knows that Daishou won’t get tricked by silly gimmicks such as this, but Kuroo couldn’t help but feel amazed by Tsukishima’s worried tone and his professional-sounding explanation.

              “I need you to hit his temple hard to stop the drooling while I kept his hands from flailing.”

              “My pleasure,” Daishou said, ducking to see if the seizure was legit and to hit Kuroo on his temple and that’s when Kai and Tsukishima efficiently hit them in the back of their heads, straight into unconsciousness.

              Kuroo’s eyeballs moved when everything is done, and he quickly wiped his mouth off of disgusting foam and saliva. He put a hand over his mouth to repress his own laugh.

              “Tsukki, you’re a genius. You’re basically saying that I got into a seizure because he did not give me a bed and pillows.”

              “I didn’t lie, Kuroo-san. that could’ve actually happened.”

              “no-no way!” Kuroo whispered.

              “Nah, I’m lying,” Tsukishima said, handing Kuroo Daishou’s gun he just retrieved from looting his unconscious form.

              “Tsukki~!” Kuroo hissed as the three of them starts sprinting out of the room, trying to make the tiniest noise possible. Their attempt ends up in vain, however, as a handful of Oikawa’s men noticed the three of them escaping and starts to sound the alarm. The whole situation turned into absolute chaos just in a matter of seconds.

              Tsukishima panted as he ran – it’s not like he’s not in a fit condition before, he was a goddamn volleyball athlete during his high school years for fuck’s sake, but it’s just that… since Tsukishima entered med school, his life has turned into havoc, and he simply doesn’t have the time to exercise like he used to be anymore. Now, he could not believe that he’s regretting it. his lungs burns and his ribs aches. The three of them took a sharp left between the buildings’ dark alleys, trying to figure a way out of this maze with Oikawa's men following suit.

              “so you lied about your lie, or are you lying about the fact that you are not actually lying, or-?”

              For some reason, Tsukishima felt like he knows this man long enough to not to be shocked by how casual he is and how he can actually speak clearly without panting in between his steps. They’re running, and yet, Kuroo’s attempting to strike a normal conversation.

              _Weird. This guy is weird,_ Tsukishima thought to himself.

              “shit-!”

              Dead end.

              The small alley leads to a three meters wall with barbed wire covering the wall’s upper surface.

 

              Tsukishima’s eyes blown wide, pupils dilated, and mouth opened in an attempt to force more air into his lungs. He rested his palms on his knees, staring at the wall in front of him.

              “come on, let’s go!”

              Tsukishima turned around. There he saw Kuroo, taking a position to lift someone up the wall.

              “Tch!” Tsukishima’s head turned from the wires, to Kuroo, to the wires again. Sure he can jump up with Kuroo’s help, but it’s going to be painful.

              “Let’s go!” Kuroo insisted.

              When Tsukishima heard thundering footsteps approaching the small room, he gave up all his calculations and jumped to Kuroo instead.

 

              It was far worse than he thought.

 

              He was too rushed to get to the other side, he only got a millisecond to level himself above the wall before losing his balance and crashing down onto a pile of crates stacked on the other side of the wall. Not to mention how his clothes got ripped from the barbed wire and all, his landing was far from smooth.

              As he dug himself out of the broken crates, he could hear the sound of somebody getting roughed up from the other side of the wall. Tsukishima grimaced. He didn’t like Kuroo’s weird personality, but he doesn’t like the image of him getting beaten up again, too.

              “the blond! He’s on the other side of the wall, catch him!”

              Tsukishima cursed.

              He rushed out of the pile of broken crates, limping to find a safe hiding spot.

              He was stabbed by the broken piece of wood from his magnificent landing spot, right on his stomach. Tsukishima held his breath and groaned when he pulled it out of him. He breathed in and out, controlling himself and trying to keep his cool before finally limping again to look for… people, or if he’s lucky, the police, newspaper boys, tourists, anyone - he doesn’t care. Anyone that doesn’t have anything to do with gangs and violence, because Tsukishima definitely had enough of them.

 

              Fifteen minutes later and he’s on the streets of New York again.

              This city is definitely a maze for him; aside from his excellent English ability, he has zero ideas on how to maneuver through the iconic city of New York that never sleeps and always busy. Fortunately, that is not his current concern – he’s just trying to stay alive, contact Daichi, tell him everything that happened and force them to save Kuroo because no matter how good Kuroo is, he won’t be able to single-handedly fight against all those guys. His alias is “the scheming gangster”, not The Boogeyman.

              Tsukishima’s right arm is gripping the walls beside him, smearing blood as he walks by. People are giving him strange and dirty looks, and yet, nobody seems to have the will to help him. His left hand is clutching on his wound real tight, trying to stop the bleeding with all his might because he’s sure he dirtied the sidewalk bad enough already.

              “Sir, can I borrow your phone?" Tsukishima has repeated the same mantra all over the town, but all they gave him was concerned and… scared? Looks on their faces. Tsukishima sighed, feeling that he might die right here from the blood loss before finally – a ray of hope has shone upon him. There he saw a woman, standing in front of a shop, holding her phone.

              “mam, could you please dial 911 for me-“

              “huh?” She turned around, processing Tsukishima’s words before finally realizing the state Tsukishima was in. “Oh my God! Oh my god, oh my god, Oh my god! The blood!” She screeched, running away; throwing her phone in the process.

              Tsukishima would’ve laughed if he sees that under normal circumstances.

              But he has lost too many blood. He ducked to grab the phone and dialed 911, leaning on the wall for some support because his legs suddenly feel heavy as heck…

              “911, what’s your emergency?”

              “Hi, 911? Yeah, I’m hurt and I’m bleeding… out…”

              “Sir? Sir?”

 

              Ten feet away from him, the owner of the phone has successfully found a cop and is currently describing the bleeding man that she suspected to be a somebody that just survived a really bad fight. They both could only freeze when they saw the man that the woman was currently describing, passed out in front of their eyes.

             

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKOKOK I NEED TO MAKE A FEW APOLOGIES
> 
> one - actually,,, I'm not a medical student. all the medical terms I found here are based on what I could find on google. that being said, I apologize for any medical inaccuracies.  
> two - I'm sorry for not updating my other fics. that, I have no excuse other than I don't know what to write and I'm stumped.
> 
> plus, CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR! Personally, i found this fic boring (lmaoooo) and i'm (very, incredibly, outstandingly) unhappy. That's why I'd like to thank you guys who have bothered to read this far. you are priceless. love ya!!


	4. Kenma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a glimpse on Kenma and Kuroo's backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest chapter I've ever written in my entire writing history. It's going to be a lot, so... yeah.
> 
> EDIT: lmao I've added 1000+ words to this chapter and change some stuff to avoid possible major plotholes.  
> This chapter is now 8100++ words long. it was 6900ish. lmao sorry 'bout thattttt *slowly fades into nothingness*

 

 

 

“Tsukki!!”

Tsukishima grimaced, frowning at the loud noises and the unpleasant feeling of… of… whatever state he was currently in. he opened his eyes slowly, blinking. There’s a constant thumping in his head that feels like a carpenter was trying to fix his head by constantly striking his hammer right onto his forehead, and when he finally succeeds to open his eyes just enough to assess the situation, all he saw was just a blurry vision of white, white, and a silhouette of a person – most likely Yamaguchi.

He cursed internally. His mind was taking its sweet time to reboot, and it just pisses him off even worse. When his memories came back rushing at him, his face turns sour. He’s not in Japan. He’s far from home, and far from his comfort zone.

Tsukishima lifted his hand that suspiciously feels like it was ten times heavier than usual to rub his itchy nose, but his reach was blocked by something. An oxygen mask.

Neat.

“Tsukki, you shouldn’t move too much,” Yamaguchi sighed, pulling Tsukki’s hand gently into its original location.

Five seconds later, the room was filled with nurses, doctors, and people that look like policemen or rather, detectives. The nurse goes to take off the oxygen mask, checking his IV and adjusting it while the doctor is filling up notes and telling that beige coated detective something.

“How are you feeling, Tsukishima-kun?” Daichi’s heavy voice rang, sounding concerned and relieved at the same time.

“Water,” Tsukishima rasps. Yamaguchi swore in Japanese, probably blaming himself for “how could you not realize that Tsukki is probably thirsty as fuck, he went through a coma, he breathed through his mouth with the help of an oxygen mask, his throat was probably dry, why are you so uncaring –

“Where is he?”

“Kuroo?” Daichi asked, mildly surprised.

“Yeah, he – he was in a bad shape. I was supposed to look for help. God,” Tsukishima rubbed the bridge of his nose, his forehead all crumpled and his lips pulled into a thin line. “Is he alive?”

“I am.”

“Kuroo.” Daichi’s hand automatically fly to his waistband, ready to pull his gun whenever needed. Kuroo’s attention was centered on Tsukishima, however, and apart from a couple of bruises blooming on his jaw and his left arm wrapped in a cast, he looked fairly okay. Tsukishima exhaled, feeling terribly relieved, but also concerned for Kuroo’s change in personality. If he was in the same mood as when he was in the bar, he would’ve done an endless teasing about Tsukishima worrying him.

He paused. Why is he worrying about Kuroo, of all people?

It must because of my doctor senses, Tsukishima thought to himself, effectively blocking any other thoughts that were trying to invade his brain.

“Why are you here?” Yamaguchi asked, squaring up his shoulders. It seems like he’s trying to protect Tsukishima from Kuroo.

“They shot Kai,” Kuroo said, face impassive. “After you escaped, my whole gang arrived. They saved me, but Daishou shot Kai and then ran away.”

“And you just stood there, watching?” Yamaguchi cried. He knows that he was being a bit childish for acting like that; he just could not believe that people are actually getting killed.

“I just lost one of my most trusted bros, If there’s someone who’s gonna feel the pain, it’s gonna be me.” Kuroo snapped. He quickly regains his composure and took a deep breath before continuing, ignoring the fact that he may or may not just made Yamaguchi standing in the brink of a cryfest. “That bastard ran right after Kai died. I know it was a trap, and I won’t fall for his tricks for the second time today.” Kuroo said. “Things will get worse if I act based on my instincts. So I came here to see you.” Kuroo lifts his head, staring straight at Tsukishima. Tsukishima gulped.

“I’d like to apologize for the things that happened today.” Kuroo’s voice was low, cold and serious; a side of him that Tsukishima did not expect to see this soon. “Both of you are foreign reporters. I’d like to advise you to stay away from gang troubles, and for you guys to go back to your homeland as soon as possible. It’s for your safety.”

Without saying any more words, Kuroo left.

 

 

 

After he left, the room fell into the most awkward silence Yamaguchi has felt in his entire life. The doctors and the nurses are the first who made their moves; they quickly do what they’ve got to do and excuse themselves out. It was also done in almost complete silence.

“Tsukki…” Yamaguchi sighed.

Daichi cleared his throat. “He’s… He’s right, Yamaguchi-san and Tsukishima-kun.” Daichi commented softly, unsure of his visitors’ reaction.

For his surprise, all Tsukishima said was “I know he’s right,” spoken in his usual monotonous voice. He rolls his head so that he’s facing the window, hiding his face away from their eyes. Well, it’s not like he’s got something to hide. His face stayed impassive and completely unreadable, but Tsukishima knew that Yamaguchi could see the things that no one else could see about him. “After the doctors clear me out, we’re going home.”

Tsukishima was sure that people are muttering their apologies non-stop after he made his statement without hesitation, but none of them ever reached him. His mind is busy figuring out the things that just happened today, and the gears are grinding so hard in his brain that he was starting to get a headache. So he shuts his eyes, trying to forget the incredibly uncanny incidents that happened today.

 

 

 

________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three days later, and they were already at the airport.

It was quick, of course. Tsukishima had requested for the earliest flight they could find. The seats were almost fully booked, but they succeed to find two empty seats – separated, but at least they’re still in the same flight.

“See you later, okay?” Yamaguchi said, stopping in the aisle beside his seat. Tsukishima nodded and kept walking until he found his number, put his luggage in the compartment above him and sat. He pulled out his phone as the other passengers start filling the plane. Right before he put his phone in airplane mode, his phone rings.

American number. Tsukishima was skeptical, but he decided to answer it nonetheless.

“Tsukishima Kei?”

“Who’s this?”

“Listen, we need your help.”

“You’ve got the wrong number-“

“My name is Bokuto Kotarou, I’m one of Kuroo’s best bro. I’m calling you because my man Kuroo is in fucking danger.”

“Why do I have to believe you? Why can’t you save your “man” yourself?” Tsukishima replied, getting pissed.

“He won’t listen to me! He’s being unreasonable. My source at the bar said that he saw Kuroo giving you his untouchable gun, so it means he trusts you. Probably more than he trusts me. Listen, I just need you to get out of that plane.”

Tsukishima ended the call. Three seconds later, the same number is calling him again.

“Listen, I’ll gladly report you to-“

“We planted a bomb on that plane.” Says another voice. This one is calm, cold, and monotonous, much like his voice, but somehow more… subtle and firm. It was a voice that demands obedience, and combined with the thing he just said, is enough to make Tsukishima’s heart stop beating for a while. “If you don’t want your beloved friend Yamaguchi Tadashi to die, I suggest you take your luggage and exit that plane, preferably without your friend knowing. Or else, he dies. We have control over security cams, so don’t even try to report this to the police. Do something weird and Yamaguchi dies. So does everyone else on flight SQ630.”

Tsukishima’s pale skin has just gotten paler. Cold sweat starts dripping from his chin.

There will always be a chance that that call was just an empty threat. But no, he couldn’t risk it.

“Sir, are you alright?” asked a flight attendance upon seeing Tsukishima’s current state.

“I – I think I need to take the next flight instead.”

“Is everything alright?”

Tsukishima paused. “Sure, yeah, I just got… this… urgent matter.”

 

 

Tsukishima wears his beanie and hides his glass. He walked through the back of the plane to avoid walking near Yamaguchi. He thought that walking on the opposite aisle will make himself invisible to Yamaguchi, and it works. It frickin works. He knows he’s safe because Yamaguchi would’ve yelled his name if he saw him leaving the airplane.

 

 

 

 

Tsukishima eyed his surroundings once he walked out of the airport. He shared eye contact with two ordinary looking guys who approached him immediately, and at that moment, he knows that it was them.

“Tsukishima Kei?” says the black-haired man with the flattest expression Tsukishima has ever seen in his entire life. Despite his flat expression, Tsukishima couldn’t deny the man’s beauty. His eyes were glimmering like dark emeralds, with his long, thick black eyelashes crowning them so perfectly that makes him looks like he could hypnotize anyone with his stare. His facial features are soft and delicate, his nose sharp and slim, and his lips are naturally pink and look like they were sculpted by the gods. If he said he was once an angel, Tsukishima would’ve believed him in a heartbeat. “I’m glad that you made the right choice.”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s gone mad.” Says a grey-haired man with black roots and big yellow eyes, pouting. Contrary to the black-haired man, this guy is a straight-up clown. Or an owl, with that crazy hair of his. “He’s gone, leaving everything to me.”

“So now we’re on good terms, huh?” Tsukishima sneered. Half of him cursed himself for his own saltiness that he swears it could get him killed someday, but the other half of him congratulated him for doing that. These guys deserve to know how ridiculous they are.

“Look, glasses, we’re sorry for dragging you back here, but we really need your help. I’m afraid that without you, Kuroo is going to die a stupid death.”

“I’m already on my way to die a stupid death by standing here.”

“Don’t mention it!” Bokuto, unaware that his reply has absolutely zero correlation with the things they were currently talking about, laughed freely as he slaps Tsukishima’s bony back with more force than necessary. Tsukishima’s face twisted in pain. “Oooh, yeah, we haven’t introduced ourselves yet. Akaashi.”

“Sorry for dragging you back, Tsukishima-kun. I’m Akaashi Keiji, and this is Bokuto Kotarou. He’s basically Kuroo’s second-in-charge. I’m his boyfriend.”

Tsukishima stared at him. The black-haired guy, Akaashi, is probably the guy who said that there was a bomb in his plane, and after seeing him, Tsukishima was still unsure if the threat was real or not.

Also, did he say that this grey-haired clown was Kuroo’s second-in-charge? He’s starting to doubt Kuroo’s gang’s legitimacy.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Tsukishima, we’re asking nicely. You don’t want us to do the hard way.”

Tsukishima gulped again. Wow, who knows such beauty can be so ruthless? “I’m a medical student. I’m not sure if I can help you in any way.”

“Did he mention anything weird to you?”

“No.”

“Tsukishima-san.”

Tsukishima sighed, realizing that he’s not going anywhere with this. This is weird, this is all weird.

“Just… let me think.” With that, Tsukishima walked to the nearest lamp post and sat. Frankly, it was a little bit weird but neither Akaashi nor Bokuto said a thing.

Five minutes passed in silence. Akaashi himself was a bit shocked to see Bokuto standing still with his expression flat, his eyes never leaving Tsukishima. Well, he is Kuroo’s second-in-charge for a reason, and he can’t get such titles if he was always that carefree.

“Is there a laboratory or any scientific facility nearby? Any scientist or medical experts that Kuroo knows?”

“Well, I dunno about a scientist, but there’s this underground doctor that he visits regularly…”

“Take me there.”

“Why? Does this have something to do with Kuroo’s whereabouts?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima says, walking in a circle. “In the warehouse, he and Oikawa were bantering about some kind of a vial, and Oikawa states that Kuroo doesn’t know what he’s getting into. That could be a threat, a reminder that Oikawa can do basically anything he wanted to, but that could also mean that Kuroo doesn’t know what’s in that vial exactly, but for some reason, it intrigued him so badly that this whole thing happened.” Tsukishima mutters in a low tone, so quickly that Bokuto starts pouting, but enough for Akaashi to understand the whole thing.

“That makes sense. He’s not the type to run away when trouble comes.”

“Yeah, he never left me like this before, so this must be important to him. Alright, let’s go get the car,” Bokuto chirped, waving his hand as a signal for them to follow him onto the parking lot.

 

 

Meanwhile, inside of the car on the road to Chinatown, Akaashi told Tsukishima about their positions in the gang. Basically, Bokuto owns the Chinatown, but it was mostly Akaashi who runs the business. Their base is a coffee shop, hiding the actual HQ for Bokuto’s army. While Chinatown is relatively safe, Akaashi was sure that there were moles, Oikawa’s moles to be specific. They can’t do anything inside the Chinatown, but still, doesn’t mean that it’s completely safe to share information.

 

Soon, they arrived. The atmosphere is exactly what Tsukishima expected. Plus, he spent the majority of his life in Japan, so an Asian area feels like a familiar face for him.

“Tsukki, we can’t be seen around here,” Bokuto informed, waking Tsukishima from his daydream.

“It’s Tsukishima. And why?”

“You know that he ran away from Oikawa’s men, right? So it’s possible that they’re still looking for him and spreading his eyes everywhere. Just wear your beanie and these glasses. Plus, can you do accents? You English seems pretty good.”

“I can twist it if you’d like.”

“Just don’t sound Japanese, alright? I’ll drop you right here. Just walk straight and look for a ginseng shop. Enter that shop, ask for Doctor Yaku Morisuke, and then go to the second floor. Meanwhile, I’ll pop in some serious disguise because let’s be honest, I’m too cool to wear lousy disguises! People will notice me straight away! Ha Ha Ha!”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, looking at Bokuto in such distaste. This guy is so… loud. Tsukishima frowned when he inspected the pair of glasses Bokuto gave him. It was a motherloving Harry Potter glasses.

            

 

 

 

Tsukishima wears his beanie and exchanged his glass with a weird, Harry Potter style glasses as he jumped out of the car. The car drove away, vanishing in between the red paints and neon lights of Chinatown.

Tsukishima does his best to act natural and entered a ginseng shop a block away from the place Bokuto dropped him. Ginseng is ridiculously expensive; a 30cm long root can cost him 200 dollars. Tsukishima knows that ginseng is expensive as hell, and that’s why he expected the show to be somewhat exclusive. Instead, what he found is an antique-themed shop, packed full with ginseng, with strong ginseng smell and Chinese good luck medallion and writings hang here and there. There’s an old Chinese lady guarding the counter, and when Tsukishima mentioned Yaku’s name, she just nodded and pointed upwards. Tsukishima thanked her and goes on to the second floor.

Now, the second floor is a total contrast compared to the first floor. It’s clean and airy, the interior was mostly made out of wood and it is exactly what Tsukishima expected of a standard 80’s New York office. The first thing he sees is a desk with a pile of files and a middle-aged lady who’s currently in the middle of scribbling something on her notepad.

“How can I help you?” She says, without even looking up.

“Is Doctor Yaku available?” Tsukishima says in a twisted accent, emphasizing on T’s and ns. It almost made him cringe.

“You’re lucky, doctor Yaku is currently available. Usually, you have to book for an appointment. Just knock.”

“Thanks.”

 

 

 

Tsukishima knocks, and when he heard a friendly response of “come in”, he hesitantly opened the door. There’s a strong antiseptic smell inside of Yaku’s office, and beside him, there are two doors leading to what seemed to be a surgery room and a room for… resting? Tsukishima doesn’t know for sure. He’s spent his medical training on pristine Japanese hospitals, not some… street practitioner.

Dr. Morisuke Yaku is a small man with light brown hair and wide eyes. Tsukishima knows that Yaku is observing him behind those wide eyes, and damn if that’s not enough to make Tsukishima nervous, he doesn’t know what does.

“Alright. A fine lad like you. What kind of unfortunate girl you knocked, huh?” Doctor Yaku said, linking his fingers with one another.

Tsukishima stopped. He checked Yaku’s name on the table, searching for his specialty. Turns out that he’s a gynecology specialist.

Oh.

“What, not used to blatant truth? Sit down, kid. You seemed like a smart guy.”

“Actually, I’m not here for… that.” Tsukishima hesitated, taking a seat in front of him. “I’m looking for a certain bedhead.”

Yaku paused, before going back to his original state in a split-second. “I don’t recognize any bedhead. Never had him before.”

Lie.

Tsukishima weighed his options. He decided that overestimating will do less harm than underestimating, so he assumes that every single place is rigged. Maybe that’s why the doctor won’t say a thing about Kuroo, or maybe he’s just trying to protect him. Who knows? Tsukishima thought that trying to coax him will get him zero results, since he’s probably not the first guy who asked him about Kuroo’s whereabouts, so Tsukishima excused himself and left.

 

Tsukishima exited the building, feeling a little bit disappointed when he realized that neither Bokuto nor Akaashi was waiting for him. He feels lost, but he decided that he won’t be standing in front of a ginseng shop until one of them comes, so he walks on, looking for a restaurant or someplace that’ll allow him to chill out and think. Just think.

As he walks by, he has the unpleasant feeling of being watched. He checks for any mirrors or reflective surface to look if there’s someone behind him, but there’s no one. He doesn’t want to risk it by turning around, so he changed his pace, making sure if he’s being followed or not. The feeling doesn’t go away. Tsukishima took an abrupt stop in front of an antique electronic shop, where a dead TV screen makes a perfect mirror. He spotted his perpetrator - a Chinese man, with long hair and mustache. He made a show of forgetting his wallet, turning around like a maniac before pretending that he has found his wallet and goes on. Now that he knows he’s actually getting followed, the next step was… he doesn’t know. Fuck, what are you supposed to do when a man is following you?!

“Psst. Kid.”

An old Chinese man says, his head peeking out a little from a coffee shop door. “Come here.”

Tsukishima weighed his options. Oh, well. He’s positive that he’s not coming out of here in his best condition anyway. Something bad will always happen. It’s been bad since the first time he landed his feet in this country five days ago, and now, there’s no escaping this chain of bad luck; so Tsukishima entered the coffee shop anyway. He was ready if somebody was going to drug him and torture him or something.

But no; when he saw Akaashi making coffee behind the wooden – themed bar, he exhaled in relief. The shop feels cozy and warm, with warm lightings, wooden furniture, and curtain-covered windows. The whole place is completely hidden from the outsiders, which was great; but at the moment, the shop was empty as hell, and Tsukishima couldn’t help but feel… a little bit weird.

Akaashi eyed him, then nodded. The gesture has made Tsukishima confused as hell, but when he turned around, the old man is gone; replaced with goddamn Kuroo Tetsurou.

“The fuck are you doing here? I thought you went home! You were being followed, you could’ve died!”

Tsukishima has never felt more offended in his life.

“I know I was being followed you dumb fuck! Do you think I wanna be here?! Your beautiful barista there threatened to bomb my fucking plane if I chose not to help him. If you just fucking tell Bokuto where you were going, then I would be on my way to Tokyo.” Tsukishima spat back. It’s not like he wants to be here. Fuck, Kuroo should be grateful.

Kuroo exhaled, closing his eyes, his fingers intertwined. “You’re right. I’m sorry. How could you know that I was going to Yaku?”

“Doesn’t matter-“

“Tsukishima said that Oikawa kept mentioning about a vial and he asked me if you know any scientists, doctors, or any kind of laboratories.” Akaashi elaborated.

“You’re terrifying,” Kuroo says quietly, but Tsukishima caught it. He doesn’t know the proper reaction to that, and he’s sure that Kuroo initially doesn’t want to be heard, so he just acts his usual.

“Alright, now tell us the truth.”

“I do owe you guys a proper explanation.” Kuroo pulls a chair and sits on it backward, hugging the backrest and propping his jaw on it like a twelve-year-old. “First of all…”

Tsukishima took a seat across him, feeling like this is going to be a long conversation.

“You look soooo damn hot in that beanie and harry potter glasses. Petition for Tsukishima Kei to change his glasses into those ones! Wait, does that thing even has your prescriptions?”

“Oh for fuck’s – no, they’re not,” Tsukishima quickly pulled his glasses out of his pocket, thanks to the Gods that they're fine, put it back on and snatched the beanie off his head. When he looked back, Kuroo was grinning at him like a godforsaken creep and holy hell he would be lying if that didn’t creep him out.

“Alright, Mr. Prissy-but-unfortunately-hot-blondie, I’m gonna tell you some serious shit. This vial,” Kuroo says, pulling out a small glass vial out of nowhere, “contains white powder, you see. The man was dying when he gave it to me. He handed it to me while muttering some kind of address and a name, banana fish.”

“Banana fish?”

“Strange name, huh? Now, you knew my background in the army. After high school, my childhood friend Kenma asked me if I would like to join him in the armies, so I agreed. I served for three years until that thing happened. We were stationed in different jobs, you see. Kenma was sent to the frontlines; he was sent to Iran. I was stationed in Hawaii. When I heard the news, I quit and focused on taking care of him. That’s when I met Oikawa.”

“What happened?”

“I only heard it, but it was their usual night of chatting and playing cards. That’s when Kenma took his M4 and starts killing a bunch of people. They shot his leg and send him home. When I heard the news, I told my superior about it all and then decided to quit instead. Back here, I found him, and I took him. He’s still in a vegetative state; he can’t do anything, and he keeps muttering the word “banana fish.””

“You quit the army and decided to work for Oikawa?”

“I’ve got no money. Kenma’s treatment is expensive as fuck. I need a lot of cash, quick.”

“Banana fish. Is that the name of the drug you’re holding?” Tsukishima asked after a long silence.

“We don’t know for sure if this is truly a drug. I asked Yaku about it, and he said without proper research he wouldn’t be able to tell. Banana Fish could be anything, for all we know. It could be the name of a place. It could be a… a codename for something.”

“Where’s this friend of yours?”

“In my apartment.”

“Can I see him?”

Silence. Kuroo’s staring at him, dumbfounded, while Akaashi… he’s just the same, staring at Tsukishima in utter disbelief.

 “What?”

Kuroo coughs. “Uh, you sure you want to get involved further? I don’t mind your company, just, you know, you might end up dead.” Kuroo laughed, satire heavy on his voice.

 “You might be able to catch the next flight, Tsukishima-kun. I can book it for you.”

Tsukishima grimaced. Just how annoying these guys can be? One moment they don’t want him to return, and the other time, they want him to go away.

 “If you don’t want to be here, that’s alright, Tsukki-“

Tsukishima squinted his eyes, his index finger pointed right at Kuroo. “Damn right I don’t wanna be here. But guess what? I’m here now. So just get on with it.”

Wow. Kuroo knows this blondie is salty, but this is definitely saltier than he’d expected.

Challenge accepted.

“Alright, then.” Kuroo smiled faintly, nodding to himself.  “But before that, I’d like to establish something…”

“What is it?”

“You said you were a med student, not an actual certified doctor!” Kuroo cries dramatically, pointing at Tsukishima with a portrayal of an exaggerated betrayed expression.

“Who says I’m a medical student? I said I was on my way to be a surgeon. I’m taking a specialist course. Which means you’re not wrong, I’m still spending most of my time at the university.”

“Yeah, but you never told me that you are an actual doctor! And you’re 21!”

“Are you researching me?” Tsukishima says. Now it’s his turn to feel betrayed.

“Not a hard thing to do, you’re all over the news. Highest GPA. One of the youngest doctor evahhh.” Kuro leans back, throwing his hands up in the air. Tsukishima’s mouth quirk upwards, although he has no idea if he should feel offended or flattered.

When Tsukishima looked back at Kuroo, Kuroo’s grin is already plastered back on his face at full force. That grin. That annoying catlike grin.

“Aww, you’re cute when you blush.”

“Shut up.”

“A-hem,” Akaashi coughs, effectively stopping these two from getting any further. “You were saying about visiting your apartment?”

“Right.” Kuroo nods, slamming his palm onto the table. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

 

For some security reasons, or as Kuroo told so, only he and Tsukishima is actually getting into Kuroo’s apartment. When Bokuto pouted and complained that Kuroo has never let him enter his apartment before and now Tsukishima, a complete foreign stranger has the honor of entering Kuroo’s sacred place, Kuroo patted him on the back and explains that it’s vital for Tsukishima to see Kenma because he’s the only one with a proper background in medicine, and it’s important for both Bokuto and Akaashi to keep an eye out in case they were being followed and all that shit, but who knows if that’s the actual reasons? This is Kuroo we’re talking about anyway.

After unlocking the front door, ushering his guest to come in and lock the 12 different locks installed on the door, Kuroo shrugged his hoodie off and hang it on his coat hanger without a word. Tsukishima just followed him awkwardly, unsure. They walked across the entire apartment until they reached the kitchen. There’s a door beside a bookcase, and Kuroo opened it gently.

The inside of the room was clean and airy. There’s a window located very conveniently so that outsiders won’t be able to see the bed or who’s lying on it, even with a binocular. Apparently, Kuroo has designed this room with such a way to make it comfortable and safe. At least from snipers. But who the hell wants to snipe a vegetative person anyway?

Kuroo stands on the hallway, signaling Tsukishima to go ahead and take a look. Tsukishima walked ahead carefully, examining the room as he goes; the walls are painted light blue, and the furniture is all white and clean. The bed was a standard single bed, with a small and frail body lying on top of it. His eyes are hooded, his golden hair long with black roots reaching his ears, his mouth parted slightly. He looks pale, and an IV stand is positioned right beside the bed.

“Who changes the IV?” Tsukishima questioned softly.

“Yaku. It’s hard to get him here unnoticed, though. There are eyes all over this place.”

Tsukishima admired Kuroo’s patience for single-handedly taking care of him. He knows so damn well how hard it is to take care of a patient, especially a comatose patient. “Why not the hospital? He’s an army soldier.”

“I’ve no money. His case has nothing to do with the conflict itself so they decided that they won’t be funding him.”

Tsukishima examined him. His eyes, his iris, his breathing, his pulse, his ears, his body temperature; anything that could give him any kind of information. He knows that it’ll be better if he could get some blood sample as well, but…

“Blood test?”

“He’s high on blood sugar and his white blood cell is just a bit over the standard amount, but nothing dangerous. I’ve had him checked once, and they said there’s an unknown crystal-like substance swimming in his blood; it’s not virus neither bacteria, but the amount shouldn’t be enough to be life-threatening.”

“Whoever said that needs to get fired and had their brain checked,” Tsukishima says, flashing his phone’s flashlight onto Kenma’s eyes. His eyes don’t even respond to light. He’s already gone. Tsukishima thought to himself as he doesn’t have the heart to inform Kuroo that. The drug has permanent effects. There’s no undoing it. “Where did you do it, anyway?”

“What?”

“The blood test. Where and when’s the last time you do it?”

 “…One of the doctors we have. I haven’t seen him in a while, but he used to work at a local hospital. It’s been ten months.”

 “Is he affiliated with Oikawa in some way?”

 “No, I’ve checked him.”

 “You might want to double check,” Tsukishima sighs. It’s obvious that the doctor Kuroo consulted for the blood test is affiliated with Oikawa somehow. He works in a local hospital, he should have all the equipment needed to identify the substance in Kenma’s blood and the impact on his body. It’s amazing how hope can crush a man’s rationalism sometimes. Knowing all this, it’s possible that Oikawa owns the drug, the white powder in Kuroo’s vial. That’s why it’s so important for Oikawa to retrieve it back because for all he knows, that could be either a) the last legit sample they had, or b) they have tons and tons of similar powder, they just don’t want Kuroo to realize the truth because he’s too good to be a gangster and would most likely to rebel. But the latter is even more unlikely to actually happen because they could just kill him. As simple as that. Or couldn’t they? Maybe Kuroo’s too good to be terminated? Maybe they’re still hoping that they could tame him somehow? Or maybe -

 “What do you think?”

The question had caught Tsukishima off guard because what he’s thinking right now is how on earth Kuroo could gain that “scheming gangster” title. He does nothing but run and reveals his dumb judgments since Tsukishima gets here; he saw no schemes at all.

 “He’s right, Kuroo-san. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

 “I know, actually,” Kuroo says. When Tsukishima looked at him, he expected that dumb grin plastered on his face. Instead, Kuroo’s face is deadly serious, looking at his bedridden friend with such sadness Tsukishima couldn’t decipher. “I know that this has something to do with the international drug market. I know that the substance inside of this vial is connected with Kenma’s case. I know that Oikawa knows I’m taking care of Kenma, and I know that Kenma’s chance of survival is less than one percent. With the current situation, I’d say his chances are as low as 0.1 percent.” Kuroo exhaled, looking at nowhere in particular. “I know this has something to do with Kenma’s case. You know, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be –“

 “- the truth,” Tsukishima finishes, turning Kuroo’s sad face into a grin that somehow calms Tsukishima. At some times, it annoys him, but in the times like this, his grin means that Kuroo is still Kuroo.

Why is he talking like he’s known Kuroo for years?

 “I thought you’re only into heavy reads. You’re quite fun too, glasses-kun.”

Tsukishima averted his gaze to look at Kenma instead. He… he doesn’t like this. There’s something weird happening on his chest and his stomach feels… weird. He feels weird. What’s this warmth spreading on his cheeks? Why does this guy have to be smart and good-looking at the same time? Never mind that, but what’s this weird feeling on his chest?

Wait…

He stares at Kenma for a little longer, eyes widening in retaliation.

He’s had this case before.

 

It was when he was doing practicum as an ER doctor. It was late at night, and all he did that time was to observe the doctors around him handle the procedure. It was completely voluntary. He did this to widen his own knowledge, and to simply kill the time.

It was around 11 PM when the doors banged open and the whole room flipped upside down. Everyone was suddenly on alert as the stretcher is pushed inside. On the stretcher, lay a man with the worst case of burn wounds Tsukishima has ever seen in his entire life.

That was when his eyes averted to the small, old TV hanging on the corner of the room, broadcasting the headline news.

It says that a small restaurant was burnt to ashes, killing dozens of people inside of it.

One of the survivors said that the culprit was a man in suits. She saw him running into the kitchen, walking out of the restaurant, locked the doors from the outside with a bicycle lock before an explosion occurs. Some of the survivors escaped by breaking the window on the restroom, but most of the patrons were stuck and ended up burned to death.

After the explosion, the man walked to the corner of the street, bathed himself with a bottle of kerosene and burned himself.

He died in the ER.

 

“You okay?”

Tsukishima blinked. Kuroo was staring at him, his face showcasing a mix of concern and confusion.

 “The man who gave you the vial,” Tsukishima says, eyes never leaving the frail body lying on the bed, doing his best to keep his voice impassive; “you told me he has also given you an address.”

 “Yeah, I was planning to leave after Yaku gave me the results – “

His words are cut off by the ringing of his phone. Kuroo pulled it out of his pocket, checked the caller’s ID and answered it.

 “Oikawa’s men are here!” Bokuto’s voice is loud and clear, his voice goes back to his commanding tone. This time, it was tinged with a hint of panic – and he has every right to feel afraid. Oikawa’s men are finally launching their attack.

 “Shit,” Kuroo says, putting his phone back in his pocket and pulled out his gun. “There’s a pistol in that drawer! Grab it and take Kenma out of here, I’ll cover you!”

Tsukishima leaped to the drawer,  pulled it and grabbed the gun resting inside of it. The weight of the gun is something new for him, but he’s seen some videos on YouTube about how you handle a gun – and he’s never been more thankful in his life. He checked if the safety was on and slipped it on his waistband, before going to Kenma. He carefully pulled the IV needle off Kenma’s arm, gently scooped him under his knees and on his shoulder before carrying him gently, trying his best not to cause discomfort even though Tsukishima doubt that Kenma would feel it anyway.

They rushed outside of the room, ignoring the sound of screeching cars on the road outside Kuroo’s apartment. Before they could move any further, they heard the sound of a glass shattered.

 “Grenade!”

Both of them were quick to hide behind a wall when the grenade exploded. The whole apartment shook, the lights flickered, and Tsukishima’s ears are ringing so hard it hurts. Tsukishima was still cowering under the dining table, hugging Kenma really tight when Kuroo taps his shoulder violently and screaming something. Tsukishima’s ears are still ringing, and he can’t hear a single word Kuroo says… that’s when until Kuroo grabbed his arm and yanked him up, leading him to the back of the apartment. Finally, they reached the backdoor, but the sound of muffled and not muffled gunshots are heavy in the air, and Kuroo signals Tsukishima to wait.

Kenma is almost weightless, but the whole maneuver has made Tsukishima’s arms hurt for some reasons. Well, whatever it is, he sure ain’t gonna drop Kenma right here right now. Doctor’s code.

 “Now!” Kuroo yells, opening the backdoor in a slam. A car screeches and Kuroo quickly ushers Tsukishima inside of the car with Bokuto on the driver’s seat and Akaashi reloading the gun on the front seat. He tries to ignore the sight of dead people around him, but before he could get inside of the car, a gunshot rang, and Tsukishima fell.

It feels like he just got hit by a flaming baseball bat right on his triceps. More gunshots fill the air, and he realizes that it was Kuroo, shooting Tsukishima’s shooter who’s currently hiding behind a wall. With Akaashi’s help, Tsukishima throws Kenma inside of the car before throwing himself in, cradling Kenma in his arms.

 “Kuroo get in!” Akaashi yells, covering him from the back while Kuroo finally jumps in and they drove off.

 

“Shit, Tsukki. Give me your arm. Kuroo says, pulling a bunch of tissue from a box of tissues (Bokuto keeps a box of tissue in his car. It’s cute, Tsukishima thought) and press it on the open wound on Tsukishima’s arm.

 “Kenma… he’s… he’s…” Tsukishima says, shifting his arm to cradle Kenma instead.

 “Stay put, I won’t be able to give pressure to your wound-“ Kuroo hissed, trying to get Tsukishima’s arm before he saw it.

A dark blotch on Kenma’s chest.

 “You’re not dying on me, pal,” Kuroo hissed, splitting the stack of tissues into two and pressed one half of it onto Kenma’s chest. “Do something! Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor?” Kuroo spat at Tsukishima, who’s currently staring at Kenma, wide-eyed.

It’s not that Tsukishima doesn’t want to do anything. It’s because he knew that Kenma’s already gone.

“Kuroo, stop, he’s – he’s,” Tsukishima says through gritted teeth.

 

 

 

 

_“I think I’m going to join the military.”_

_“Eh?”_

_It was a week after Kenma’s adoptive parents died._

_They died in a car crash. They died peacefully._

_Kenma had loved them so dearly; they’ve treated him like their own child until the day of his death._

_“You should, too,” Kenma commented, eyes never leaving his Nintendo DS._

_“The Army, Kenma. Why? You’ve never been a fan of PE. You just tolerate volleyball because I introduced you to it when we were kids.”_

_Silence._

_Something rang in Kuroo’s head, and he scrunched his face. “Please tell me you’re not doing this for me.”_

_“Kuroo, we've been dreaming this since-“_

_“That was my dream, not yours. Besides, the dream’s dead.”_

_“Do you really want them to give you another foster parent?”_

_“Hey, I was doing fine. I’m here because of you.”_

_“Yeah, how long until you got arrested again? They’ll just hand you to another pedophile.”_

_Kuroo’s breath caught in his throat._

_To put it simply, both of them have lost their foster parents recently, even though Kenma’s loss was the most recent one._

They’ve been friends from the very beginning of time. They were both orphans, and they met in the foster ward run by the government until they were adopted and separated from each other. That was until they met again during high school. It was pure luck that brought them together again.

Kenma lived with the very same foster parents that adopted him when he was ten. Kuroo, on the other hand, was always a little bit… problematic. His biological parents weren’t exactly society’s model parents and abandoned him when he was six. He moved from three different foster homes before finally ended up in a foster home located in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. It was when he met Kenma, looking lost on his first day of High School. Little did he know, Kuroo’s parents were proably one of the greatest two-face he has ever seen - they werealways kind to basically everyone else but Kuroo. Long story short, he was terribly abused.

They died in an accident. Kenma knew that it wasn’t an accident, but did nothing otherwise. Heck, Kenma was completely oblivious of Kuroo’s life in his house until the last year of high school. Kuroo was so good at concealing all the evidence. When he found out, it was too late.

Kenma didn’t exactly know what happened, but he knew that Kuroo works at his parent’s bar twenty-four seven. He confronted him once, but Kuroo denied it. Until just about six months ago when Kuroo finally had enough. Kuroo had moved to Boston ever since, probably wasting his dead parent’s money, until he heard the news.

_“Sorry, that was too harsh.” Kenma sighs._

_Kuroo rose from where he sat. The sky was horribly gloomy, enveloping the sky above Kenma’s house in grey and purple clouds. Kuroo went inside the house to turn on the lights, making it at least bearable with the sickening silence that blankets the house. The house looks incredibly empty and gloomy, without two loving stepparents that always asked Kenma how his day has been and hug him even though Kenma initially hated the gesture._

_Kenma was still sitting on the front porch, slumping on the chair. When Kuroo came back, he thought that Kenma would be still playing his Nintendo, but the console was already dead and Kenma was staring at the blank black screen._

_“I’m making up my mind.”_

_“Kenma, you were thinking of going to university. Why don’t you? You’re smart.”_

_“You said to me when we were kids, you’d love to be a soldier.”_

_Kuroo’s lips twitched at the mention of his childhood. He did tell Kenma that he wanted to be a soldier, but now, all he wanted was to waste his life and probably get bankrupt before getting killed in a gang fight. He had lost his purpose in life._

_“That has nothing to do with you.”_

_“What if I just want to?”_

_“You want to enlist in the army is just like how I want to go to Harvard. It’s just plain impossible.”_

_“Don’t care if it’s impossible. I want it.”_

_“You’re being unreasonable.”_

_“At least I’m doing what’s right.”_

_“Oh, is it?”_

_Kenma’s lips curled. First, he doubted that Kuroo would enlist by himself. He wasn’t really sure about how human emotions and PTSD works, but he knew that he could not trust Kuroo with himself. Second, he didn’t have any more friends beside Kuroo, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to be with him._

_“I can’t read you sometimes. You should’ve run away ages ago.”_

_“Oh, trust me, I tried.” Kuroo sighed. “Plymouth was my record.”_

_Kenma’s lips irked even further. Seriously, Kuroo’s last foster parents were absolute psychos._

_“Why didn’t you tell me? Or the po-”_

_“They wouldn’t believe me,” Kuroo said, effectively cutting Kenma’s words. His past was still too painful to remember, and Kuroo didn’t want to reminisce even the slightest of his childhood. His life was not a happy one. “How about this? I promise I’ll join the army. But you, young child, you’re going to the university.”_

_“I’m joining the army, with or without you,” Kenma said sternly with his usual voice. He wasn’t about to hit him with “I just wanna be with you,” that’s just too cringe-worthy for Kenma’s taste._

_That’s bullshit, Kuroo thought to himself. Kuroo knew that his best friend was absolutely aware that he was gonna follow him anywhere, now that they could be together again. Kenma knew Kuroo will join the army if he did._

 

 

Kuroo couldn’t handle it anymore.

He buries his face on Kenma’s chest, holding back choked sobs. He couldn’t believe how his chest hurts, how everything hurts from losing someone you love.

 “Kotarou, we need to go to the safehouse,” Akaashi’s steady voice rings in the silence like a piece of glass breaking into pieces. Kuroo is still clutching on his friend’s cold, unmoving body, refusing to let go.

 “Yaku-san. Is he-“

 “We had him evacuated before you entered Kuroo’s apartment,” Akaashi said.

 “No. I’m refusing to run.” Kuroo’s weak voice is something Tsukishima did not expect to hear. Kuroo sat back up, his eyes red from the tears, but his face is… full of hate and anger, it makes Tsukishima shudders in fear.

 “Kuroo-“

 “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

 “Kuroo. Kuroo, hey, look at me,” Tsukishima says, holding Kuroo at his shoulder. Kuroo shook his hand off immediately as if Tsukishima’s touch burns his skin. Tsukishima felt mildly offended but he knows that now isn’t the time for that. “You knew this was going to happen. You know it. And I trust you enough not to face Oikawa with bare hands because that’s just plain stupid.”

Tsukishima knows that his words are maybe not the best to reassure people, but it’s what he can do. He watches as Kuroo’s expression falters into a blank one. Although tears are still brimming on his eyes, threatening to fall.

 “Shit, I was so stupid.”

“Damn right you are,” Tsukishima said, his voice soft and gentle. Kuroo chuckled at the response. “But it was human. So it’s ok.” Tsukishima continues, keeping his voice soft and reassuring. Oh, how much Kuroo wants to hug this salty blond angel beside him. He’s probably the saltiest guy Kuroo has ever met, but Kuroo just shrugs his saltiness off because he knows that it’s the best Tsukishima could do. Looking at him has made him realize something, though…

 “Your arm.”

 “It's fine,” Tsukishima says, grabbing the remaining pile of clean tissues and press it down to his bleeding wound. Tsukishima looks down at the dead body on his arms, closes Kenma’s hooded eyes and averted his gaze outside of the car, trying to focus his attention on something else.

 “I can’t be with you, though,” Akaashi said, breaking the silence once more. “Who’s gonna take care of Chinatown?”

 “Shit, you’re right. Please be careful, Akaashi.”

 “Akaashi-san.” Tsukishima’s voice cracks, like he was on the verge of tears. “I know Hinata’s still in prison, but he should’ve been released by now. Can you get him to me, please?”

 “Alright.”

 “I need to meet him in person.”

Akaashi was quiet for a while, before saying “alright.”

 “Thank you, Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi whispered something to Bokuto, in which he returns with a nod. Akaashi leans back, occasionally checking the mirrors to make sure they’re not being followed.

With that, Tsukishima returns to his original position of leaning onto the window and staring out. After a while, Kuroo has found out that Tsukishima, is in fact, crying. His tears kept rolling down his pale neck, making it glisten under the sun. Tsukishima’s arm is trembling as if he doesn’t want to hold the corpse on his lap. His other arm is still pressing the now red-stained batch of tissue hard, but it’s trembling, too.

In all of a sudden, Kuroo feels like he’s the jerk in this car. How can he be so selfish? Tsukishima was forced into this. At first, Kuroo wants him to stay for selfish reasons. He wants to see his beautiful face every day so he could get some motivation, he thought to himself. Seeing his face has brought him some kind of a calming feeling, which Kuroo won’t admit out loud. Hell, Kuroo won’t even admit it to himself, but he can’t deny the truth that Tsukishima is… interesting, to say the least.

And now he’s regretting it.

The word “sorry” is hanging on the edge of his mouth, but he somehow doesn’t have the power to say it out loud. Because now, Tsukishima’s shot, and he’s crying for a reason that is surely justified. He wants to get mad at Bokuto for dragging him back, but he can’t; Kuroo will never admit that ever since he visited Tsukishima at the hospital, he’s been in a constant bad mood. That is until he spotted him going to Yaku’s office this morning. Kuroo doesn’t know why he feels that way.

The two of them are fucked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure suck at writing but boi do i have fun writing it
> 
> And ahaha ha ha let's pretend that i didnt just murder our lovable pudding head
> 
> If you're still here, please comment so I can thank you for being patient enough and for tolerating me. Love you!! xoxo


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